<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>We Pretended It Could Last Forever by spaceprincess97</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926377">We Pretended It Could Last Forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincess97/pseuds/spaceprincess97'>spaceprincess97</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dalton Academy Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dalton December Challenge 2020, M/M, here u go ham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:49:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincess97/pseuds/spaceprincess97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Prompt #7: The Nutcracker</p><p>You've heard of an Alice in Wonderland extended metaphor, can I offer you a Larythe flavored Nutcracker one? Sebastian takes Julian to the ballet and it Impacts Him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Larson-Armstrong/Sebastian Smythe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We Pretended It Could Last Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsandNoble/gifts">BardsandNoble</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You ever been to the ballet?” Sebastian had asked him. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Julian had said, a little scornful. Because why would he? He was an actor, not a dancer. What interest did he have in seeing someone pull off a triple pirouette if they couldn’t even emote right? </p><p> </p><p>Sebastian had laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Some dancers can act.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll believe it when I see it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Then meet me tomorrow at the Palais Garnier? 7 o clock?</p><p> </p><p>Sebastian’s eyes had been bright, his smile daring. </p><p> </p><p>“If you don’t like it, I’ll make it up to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Julian hadn’t hesitated before he’d said,</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a deal.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it wasn’t wise to wear a silk shirt in Paris in December, but Julian knew better than to show up to an event underdressed. He shuddered under his winter coat, the cold cutting through as he made his way up the steps. Maybe on a different night, he’d be recognized, but tonight he was just another theatre-goer in the crush of people. </p><p> </p><p>Julian found Sebastian inside waiting on the stairs, cheeks still flushed from the cold. If he was surprised that Julian had trusted him enough to come, he didn’t show it. He just smiled, handed Julian his ticket. They made their way to their seats, took the programs they were offered, and waited. </p><p> </p><p>“You excited?” Sebastian asked, looking over at him. Julian laughed. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Sebastian shook his head, smiling, and looked back to the stage. </p><p> </p><p>They didn’t speak much from the time the lights dimmed until the final curtain, just a bit of murmured conversation during intermission, really, but Julian felt Sebastian watching him from time to time through the show. And if their fingers happened to brush in the dark, well, they could have written it off as an accident. </p><p> </p><p>When the lights came up, Sebastian hadn’t asked him what he thought. Instead he waited, allowing Julian to complain or praise the production as he pleased. He held his tongue as they exited the theater, only breaking his silence once they were on their way back to Julian’s hotel.</p><p> </p><p>“You were right.” The unspoken sentiment: I liked it. </p><p> </p><p>Because despite his reservations, Julian <em> had </em>liked it. Of course he did, he could appreciate any performer who was exceptionally good at their craft, and there was no denying the company was good. But even still… he had just one caveat. </p><p> </p><p>“There’s no real ending,” he’d told Sebastian as they made their way down the street. “No resolution, Clara just disappears offstage and the audience is left to assume she makes it back home. And what about the Nutcracker? Does he stay with Clara? Does he transform back? What happens to him when the night is over?”</p><p> </p><p>Sebastian had laughed, breath clouding in the night air, and told him he should let go of pedantics. </p><p> </p><p>“Not every story gets a happy ending.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not but,” Julian looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “There should at least <em> be </em>an ending.”</p><p> </p><p>~~~</p><p> </p><p>Lying on the couch in his mother’s house in Beverly Hills, Julian is struck by the urge to watch <em> The Nutcracker </em>again. He heaves his laptop off the floor, waiting for it to boot up while Sneakers joins him on the couch. It takes a while, sifting through amateur productions he has no interest in watching, but eventually he finds one through a ballet company’s website. He queues it up, sinking deeper into the couch. </p><p> </p><p>Even when he saw it the first time, Julian knew the Christmas party was the most boring part of the show. The posturing, the etiquette—he’s had enough of that in real life. He snorts, remembering the way Sebastian’s little brother Alfie had caused a scene at the embassy dinner Sebastian had dragged him to. </p><p> </p><p>As Clara falls asleep under the Christmas tree, Sneakers jumps off the couch, trotting off through the door. Julian watches him go, before looking back to the screen. </p><p> </p><p>He watches the Nutcracker advance on the Mouse King, sword in hand. He thinks back on that night in the bar, the night everything changed. The Nutcracker, trapped and cornered. Sebastian, unable to escape. Clara throws a shoe at the Mouse King. He remembers sliding into Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in, hoping for the best. A leap of faith. </p><p> </p><p>His mother comes in. If Dolce has questions about why Julian is watching the Nutcracker in June, she doesn’t voice them. She just stands there for a moment, watching with him, before she presses a kiss on his temple and leaves him to it. </p><p> </p><p>Julian’s mind drifts through the series of dances in the Land of Sweets. He’s thinking about morning coffee, warm hands under tables. Pastries from that little corner bakery. Everything from that week, a riot of flavours and images prompted by music he hasn’t heard since he left. </p><p> </p><p>The Sugar Plum Fairy and her cavalier dance their final pas de deux. Julian and Sebastian danced together plenty of times, in clubs and in bars, but there was only one time that really mattered. It would sound horribly cliche if he told someone about it, slow dancing to Edith Piaf in a hotel room in Paris… but that’s just how it happened. </p><p> </p><p>The ending comes too fast, before Julian is ready. Clara and the Prince ride offstage and Julian’s chest aches. He reaches forward to pause the video, then stops when he sees the curtains slide open again. This production is different than the one they saw in Paris. Back in the ballroom, Clara wakes under the Christmas tree, nutcracker in hand. All of it, a dream. It’s the resolution that Julian had begged of Sebastian so many months ago. </p><p> </p><p>And yet… it’s worse, somehow. Because it wasn’t real. Because maybe it never really mattered. Because now, Clara is alone. </p><p> </p><p>That week in Paris wasn’t unlike Clara’s journey in the Nutcracker, if he thinks about it. It’s hazy like a dream, warm and tender in a way that feels both real and impossible. And then of course, there’s the way things ended. So abrupt, so mundane for something that… wasn’t. The thought is romantic and annoying. He rolls his eyes and dismisses it immediately, closing his laptop and dropping it on the floor. </p><p> </p><p>Sebastian was right. Not every story has a happy ending. But that doesn’t stop him from asking… </p><p> </p><p>Julian rolls over, glances at the pile of candy boxes and cards sitting on the coffee table. </p><p> </p><p>What happens when the story’s over?</p><p> </p><p>His eyes find the prim box of macarons nestled in the middle of the pile. </p><p> </p><p>And what happens if it’s not?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I watched Baryshnikov’s Nutcracker while I wrote the second half of this, 10/10 would recommend.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>